It winds through the dim light, wafting on a stale breeze.

It makes Ratter's nose itch, that breeze, but no matter. It carried the music, and music brought interested ones to him for a brief while. Easy enough to note their faces for future nights, note the regulars and the newcomers, the friends and the oblivious.

His favorite meal was the oblivious. If they couldn't be bothered to notice the starving musician playing for his supper, why should they be bothered by losing a little blood?

I don't think that's a sense of justice he has. I think that's a sense of personal entitlement to praise and adoration.

But then, that's Ratter for you.

Dressed in a too-large shirt of dusty plaid and equally dusty jeans, with a sparse beard and lanky hanks of hair, he certainly looked the part.

And it was something to do with his time, y'know man? Immortality meant making your own passtimes, most times. Couldn't spend all your time looking for a fix.

The music of a harmonica drifted to her ears through the slight breeze...if there was one at all... Well at least it was less stuffy then those subway cars.

Aspen had just stepped off the subway when she heard it. She always hated riding the trains. A fear of getting mugged prevented her from taking them in the night time, but her car was in the shop, and not wanting to stay home all weekend, she went out. It had been a dull night and the ride on the subway had made her anxious, but her anxiety dissapeared once she heard the music floating through the air. She didn't know what attracted her about it, but she knew she wanted to follow its soft, eerie sound. Eerie, at least to her ears, because it was a sound unfamiliar to her.

Not thinking, she did what she wanted and followed the music. The appearance of the man playing did not surprise her. He wasn't the first she had seen down here, though there seemed to be something different about him. She couldn't place it and shrugged it off as only imagination.

"It's lovely," she said softly as she approached the man, slightly cautious.

He played her a trill, a rising scale in time with her footsteps.

Bit of a showman, maybe?

Ratter is, perhaps, a bit cleaner than most gutterfolk. This is mostly due to an enhanced sense of smell that makes smelling to high heaven, well, painful. Or at least uncomfortable.

Or maybe it's urban camouflage. I have no idea.

Definitely not a regular, this one, and the next train wasn't due for a while yet.

Might as well stop playing. Not like he needed the coin tossed into the hat.

"Thanks." His voice is husky - or perhaps hoarse - and he has shadows under his eyes. Not the most healthy-looking chap.

For a moment Aspen stood and stared at him, sizing him up. He definately was different than others she had seen playing instruments in the subway and his music was curious to her. She had only ever taken the subways a couple of times and had never run into anyone playing a harmonica before.

She suddenly stopped staring and her bright green eyes went wide as if she remembered something. She searched through her pockets, managed to find a dollar, which was surprising since she never carried cash, and she tossed it into the hat next to him. Then she stopped and stared some more. It wasn't really staring, merely a look of curiousity. She was torn between talking to him and letting him have his peace. She decided the latter would bother her.

"I haven't seen you around her before."

Her voice wasn't as soft as before, but she still was speaking in a barely audible tone. Normally when she saw someone playing in the subway, she walked by, without a glance. Not because she was rude, but because she was shy and she didn't like to draw attention to herself, like she had at the bar. That was why her long black coat was wrapped tightly around her body and her arms crossed across her chest. Her attractive clothes were hidden and her long black curls were tucked into her jacket. The only thing that could be seen were her black knee high boots, but her bracelets jingled as she walked. She perferred to voice herself in her writings.

Ratter offered her an encouraging (closed-lipped) smile. It paid to be personable, in this gig.

"I'm here most nights. I haven't seen you around here before, though. New night job?" His voice is soft and siblant. He's making an effort to be reassuring and harmless.

Few enough people took the subway in the evenings, these days. Dangerous people in subways.

But of course, that didn't apply here, did it?

He rather hoped she becomes a regular. Easy on the eyes, unlike some of the more self-absorbed businessmen (and women, these days) that happened through.

And having someone to talk to'd be nice. He didn't particularly like hermitage, all told. No one ever talks to the subway musician - sad truth.

Aspen laughed quietly.

"You are right. I don't come around here often. I guess it's been a long while actually. Truth be told, I just wanted to use it as a way to strike up conversation." She smiled shyly and shrugged. "I don't really like the subways. Dangerous at night, but my car is in the shop and I wanted a night on the town. No new night job. I already work twenty-four hours a day... "

Her voice faltered slightly. She was rambling...again. For a journalist, she wasn't very good at keeping her mouth shut. She shook her head, mostly to herself. She was a generally shy person, so what was wrong with her lately? It would seem as though she spent too many nights on the town after what she had told that other stranger. Maybe all this being cooped up at home had finally gotten to her.

It was silent for a moment before she decided to turn the focus from her and on to him.

"So, how long have you been coming here? I know I don't ride the subway that often, but I still have never heard you playing before."

Was it possible that she had just missed his beautiful music with all the crowds? Most days she was in a hurry to get out of the station that she never had stopped to listen.

Ratter grinned crookedly.

"I come here most nights."

He paused, and seemed to fall silent, before deciding to continue.

"I usually come later than this. Midnight or so. I like the quiet." People are more likely to hear him at that kind of time.

And less likely to think of him as anything other than a musician.

"Oh," Aspen nodded, unsure of what to say for a moment. She was starting to feel a little chilly, despite the stuffiness of the subway. She pulled her coat tighter around her.

"Oh," she repeated again, softly. Her cheeks became red with embarrasment once again.

"Well, maybe I should get going." She didn't want to go yet. She wanted to hear him play some more, plus she enjoyed the company. She just didn't know what to say. As usual, her words were beginning to flee and she felt shy and clumsy once again.

He grins, and asks softly, "You have somewhere to be, kid?" Kid is what he calls most people, these days, half-teasing, half-serious. He is older, even if he doesn't look it, scrawny and malnourished as he is.

He pushes away from the wall, lanky-limbed in his movement, stretching. "Normally I'd offer you a song, but if you're off...." Pause, as he tosses her a glance. "One for the road?"

Aspen shook her head, "No, not really. I just thought maybe I was boring you."

She smiled shyly and shuffled her feet, wondering why she couldn't look him in the eyes when a second ago it had been just fine to do so. She wanted to say something else, but wasn't sure what else to say, so she stood...waiting.

He moved away from the wall and, surprised, she took a step away from him. Then laughed softly, nervously. Talking to strangers made her uncomfortable enough. Despite her outward appearance and her soft voice, she had once been involved in a pretty nasty crowd...most likely because she was so soft-spoken.

"Sure, a song for the road sounds great."

Her eyes shined with pure delight. To hear his lovely music again would be a nice way to end the night.

He backs off again, hands spreading, expression apologetic. "Hey, sorry, didn't mean to...." He trails off, shrugs. "I'll stay over here, ey?" Too bad, really, he doesn't like keeping his distance from people. But she's a sweetie, and that means he's in no hurry. He has all the time in the world, you know.

"But, anyway, any tune in particular?" Or he can choose one of his own, whatever.

Aspen shook her head again, feeling slightly ashamed.

"No, it's okay," she said stepping towards him, "I just...you just surprised me. I'm a little jumpy this time of night."

She bit down on her bottom lip... a habit she had. She only did it when she was thinking or nervous. As well as tugging on the bottom of her shirt, she did that too and she realized she was doing it then. She stopped.

"No, I don't really know a lot of music. You choose. It'd be a surprise if you got to choose."

He smiled, running callused fingers up and down the spine of his harmonica - a habit he had, just making sure it was real.

"Here's something I made myself...."

It's vaguely religious, that same slow, pure sound that you get from hymns, but it's celebrating something wild, something free, something ever so subtly harsh.

The song doesn't have a name, but if it did, it would probably be Fly By Night.

And then, still smiling, he lowers the harmonica. Oh, the music he makes isn't classical, and it'll never see the light of day - but he doesn't care. He just wants to show off to someone who'll appreciate it. He's an exibitionist, at heart, someone who flaunts his talents as easily as he breaths.

He is also very, very bad at being modest, which is why his smile and eyes are both proud and expectant, watching for reaction.

Aspen listened as he began to play, surprised by the sound that could come out of something so small. It was amazing and made her feel suddenly like turning and running as far as she could and never turning back, just because she could. Something like freedom...

She closed her eyes, not wanting to take in the distraction of sight around her. She just wanted to be able to listen. When he stopped playing, she felt as if the song should go on forever and wanted to ask him to play more, but did not. It was getting late.

She opened her eyes, for once staring straight into his own, green eyes dancing with the music that still played through her mind.

"That was wonderful..."

She didn't know what else to say, because she couldn't describe it. The song simply was...

Sadly, music can never last forever. The spell eventually breaks.

Ratt lives his songs, though, which is why he doesn't mind when they end.

"Thanks, kid." And he's just a ragged twenty-something year old with a ratty beard and a harmonica again.

It's really rather sad. He has a certain grace to him, when he's playing, which is so easily hidden when he's talking to someone.

For the record? He is more than satisfied with her reaction.

"I'll see you around."

The spell was indeed broken, by the sudden onslaught of train noises as the next one pulled up. She wrinkled her nose in protest, nodding as he said he would see her around. Before she left, she pulled what was left of her money out of her pocket. She put it in the hat, adding it to his collection. The music was over for the night.

She whispered a soft goodbye and waved as she began to walk away and up the subway stairs. She hoped they would meet again. She would give him her name then...that way he could stop calling her kid.